Queen of Kings

by RH Tucker

  Queen of Kings

  Kings of Karmichael, Book 3

  RH Tucker

  Copyright © 2020 by RH Tucker

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Edited by Melissa Ringsted of There For You Editing.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Epilogue

  Maddox

  About the Author

  Also by RH Tucker

  Queen of Kings

  1

  Jade

  Sometimes I wonder what my life would’ve been like if I never joined the Kings. Don’t get me wrong, I love being in a band with Derrik, EJ, and my brother. And I never take for granted everything that comes with being a King. Touring the world and playing in front of thousands of people; it’s amazing. But every once in a while, I wonder what my life would’ve been like if I stayed a typical teenager and graduated high school, instead of opting to get my GED and become a rock star.

  Granted, I had no idea if any of us would become rock stars, but we hoped. Those hopes, as it turned out, were not unfounded. Our first album blew up, our second record did even better, and now after a world tour, the Kings of Karmichael are still sitting on top of the world. I can’t complain. But still … sometimes I wonder. Especially in times like right now.

  “Jade?” Bret nudges me with his elbow. I stop twirling the glass of water around on the table and glance over at him. “What do you think?”

  I pinch my lips together. Shifting in my seat, I look across the table at Jimmy Richards. His smile has been cemented in place. It’s not a friendly smile either. It’s mischievous. No, it’s more than mischievous. It’s predatory.

  I’ve been zoning in and out of the luncheon with Jimmy and my boyfriend, Bret, because I don’t really want to be here. I’m doing this as a favor to Bret. Again.

  “Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink?” Jimmy asks, lifting his Jack and Coke, taking another sip. “I don’t care if you’re underage. I know all you stars like to let loose.”

  I roll my eyes. “I don’t drink, Jimmy. Everyone knows that.”

  “Right, right.” He nods as if he’s actually interested in my likes or dislikes.

  He couldn’t care less. His bushy eyebrows lift a bit as he laces his fingers together on the table. He’s dressed in what looks like a high-end designer black suit, with a white shirt and black tie. His black hair is slicked back and graying at the sides. If he had a prop, like a monocle or a cane, he could pull off the look of one of those movie villains.

  All he’s interested in is getting me to sign with his record label. He’s been trying to get me to switch for a year. Normally, he—or anyone else for that matter—would never even try to broach the topic. Everyone knows I’d never leave the Kings. Not only is Maddox my brother, but Derrik and EJ might as well be. They’re my family. The only reason he’s been able to hound me for as long as he has is because of Bret.

  Bret’s band has been trying to break in with a record company for over a year. They’re a punk band, and they’re … okay. I’m not the biggest punk fan around, but I do know good music. And Bret’s band, Skum Bucket, is … okay. It’s all I can say because I don’t want to call them bad. They’re efficient with their instruments. It’s a mixture of slightly good, kind of weird, and off-kilter melodies. But how do you tell your boyfriend that they aren’t very good? I keep hoping they’ll figure it out, but they don’t. I know something about chasing your dream, and I’m not saying each of them can’t find a career in music alone, but together, as a unit, I don’t know if they are going to get to the spot they want.

  Why am I talking about Bret’s band? Because he’s the reason I’m even meeting with Jimmy. In one of Bret’s many, many meetings with record execs to try and get his band signed, he met Jimmy. The only reason he was able to get most of those meetings is that he dropped my name. I didn’t mind him doing that early on. We’d been going out for a couple of months, and I thought if all he had to do to get a meeting was say he was dating me, then why not? Anything I could do to give him a small opening couldn’t hurt. We all need breaks.

  Most of the producers listened for a few minutes but declined. A couple asked for demos, but he never heard back from them. Then came Jimmy. I should’ve known something was fishy.

  Last year, when the Kings and I started our world tour, Bret began asking me if I was sure being with the Kings would work out. It was out of the blue and led to a couple of arguments. Then he said he’d been talking to Jimmy Richards and was offering me a deal as a solo artist. After declining, multiple times, the deal started changing.

  It’d be for a solo deal, featuring the Kings. Then it turned into a contract working with the Kings and it’d be a totally separate record. Then a mixture of both. After telling him I’d never leave my band, Bret finally told me why he’d been pressuring me so much. If I signed with Jimmy, Bret’s band would get a provisional record deal. As much as I like Bret, I still can’t bring myself to leave my family or even produce stuff on the side with another company.

  However, I do have personal stuff I want to work on. I told the guys that, and they were totally on board with me working on my own music, but I’d never produce it for an official release without having the guys be part of it. I’m not a solo artist. The Kings of Karmichael is as much my identity as anything, and I like it that way. But since we have downtime before we start recording our next album, they know I’m going to record some stuff on my own. Mostly, to get it out of my system.

  Which is why I’m here. When I told Bret I was going to record some solo stuff, he told Jimmy. It upset me, but then Bret said Jimmy wants to talk about recording the things I’m working on in his studio. That caught my attention because I wasn’t sure where I wanted to record the stuff I have rattling around in my head.

  The Kings have all recorded our stuff in two different studios in Los Angeles. In those studios, it almost feels like home. But this new stuff I’m working on doesn’t fit with the Kings’ catalog, which is why I want to work on it by myself. I wasn’t sure where I wanted to record it because being at our regular studios might’ve kept me in the same frame of mind as I get when I’m recording with my band. I wanted somewhere different.

  “It’s not a contract for a record,” Bret says. “But this would really help out Skum Bucket.”

  I twist my glass of water again. “I know, but what am I supposed to do, Bret? You set this entire thing up, and
I almost feel like a traitor to my band for even taking this meeting. You always do stuff like this.”

  “I’m sorry, Jade,” Jimmy speaks up. His dark brown eyes shift between Bret and me, before he reaches across the table, picking up the contract. “In no way do I want to make this seem ill-advised or make you feel like you’re going behind your band’s back. This is simply a lunch meeting. I promise, this is not some shady contract to get you to break up with them.”

  “No, this isn’t about my band. This is about your band,” I spit at Bret. “Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t think this is right.”

  Bret flinches at my words. Taking the contract from Jimmy, he places it down in front of me. “Babe, I’m sorry. You know how hard me and the guys have been working, though. All we need is a break.” He reaches over, taking my hand. “Jade, I really didn’t mean to put you in this situation.”

  “Jade, I won’t lie,” Jimmy speaks back up. “Have I wanted to sign you since the Kings of Karmichael came on the scene? Absolutely. Derrik Tyler could be the hottest solo artist in the world, but that’s not what he wants. I respect that. And you could be this generation’s Pat Benatar. If positioned right, you could be the next Madonna. You’ve already got the single name.”

  “Jade is my middle name, Jimmy. I don’t want to be the next Madonna. My name isn’t some gimmick thought up by our record company. It’s what my family has called me since I was little.”

  He raises his hands in defense. “I’m sorry, I know that. That’s not my point. What I’m trying to say is, if you don’t want to leave the Kings, I respect that. I don’t want you to. All of our artists are extended family to us at Rich Records. This contract is purely circumstantial. It doesn’t force you to leave the Kings or anything like that. But I’d be entering into a provisional deal with Bret and his band. That’s why I have the paperwork.”

  Bret puts his arm over my shoulder. “Babe, this contract is totally on the up-and-up. Right, Jimmy?” He glances across the table, and Jimmy nods with a dangerous smile. “It’s really a contract for Skum Bucket more than it is for you. I’ve read it over and it’s all good.”

  Taking a deep breath, I stare down at the paper. “And it doesn’t mess with anything with the Kings of Karmichael? I’ll still be able to record with them and tour with them and everything else?” I ask, my eyes returning to Jimmy.

  “It has absolutely nothing to do with the Kings,” he confirms. “It’s only about recording at Rich Records. You can have your people take a look at it if you want, but I’d hope my word is good enough for you. I want this little step to be the first of many trustworthy moments between us. You’re an amazing talent. All Rich Records wants to do is help you in any way we can.”

  “Please, Jade?” Bret says, a softness in his voice I rarely hear from him. Whenever he’s done something inappropriate, like this meeting, or has overstepped his bounds in some way, shape, or form, he’s always quick to apologize. I know how bad he wants his band to make it, and I don’t want to be the one to crush those dreams.

  Glancing down at the contract again, I realize I should probably have our manager, Peter, take a look at it. I don’t trust Jimmy, but as aggravating as Bret can be, I do trust him. And I want to help him. “Give me a pen,” I tell him.

  Jimmy is quick to offer one. “You won’t regret this, Jade. I firmly believe this is the beginning of a long and healthy professional relationship between us.”

  After signing the contract, I hand the paper and pen back to him. “Okay. When can I start using the studio?”

  “I’ll have my people set everything up, and you’ll be granted access to the studio starting tomorrow. The building houses five recording studios, and one will be exclusively for you. You can bring in any producer or other musicians that you want. You’ll have free rein.”

  All of that sounds amazing. “Thank you. I won’t need any producers. I’ll probably have my band come in and help, but like I said, this isn’t for release. This is all just stuff I want to get out of my system.”

  “Of course.” He smiles. It’s still not friendly. Maybe I’m just suspicious of him because he’s from a different record company. “I’ll have your name at the top of our list.”

  “Kristen,” I tell him. He quirks a confused eyebrow. “Don’t put Jade Barkley. I want to keep this as quiet as possible. I don’t want rumors starting at Page Five or Teen Weekly. I’ll use my first name.”

  “And what should we put for your last name? I’m sure if the news leaks, people will know who Kristen Barkley is.”

  “King. Kristen King.”

  “Sounds great.” Another leery smile.

  “Thank you, babe.” Bret reaches over, giving me a kiss. “This is going to be amazing for us. And you. You’ll see.”

  “Yeah, sure,” I reply.

  I do hope this helps his band. Who knows, maybe I’m entirely wrong, and they’ll become the next punk rock band to have a breakout hit. The nerves about signing the contract are still bubbling around, but also a sense of anticipation starts to build. I’ll finally get into a recording studio and start working on music that’s been filling my head for a long time now. It’ll feel weird recording without the guys, but it’ll also be freeing. I’m looking forward to it.

  2

  Austin

  “Here you are, Mr. Richards,” a waitress walks over, handing my father a second glass of his preferred mixed drink—gin and tonic.

  He haphazardly waves her off, taking the glass from her. I eat another onion ring, giving the waitress a soft smile in appreciation. I know he won’t acknowledge her.

  It’s a nice restaurant—complete with a hanging chandelier, an ornate fountain that waits near the hostess’ spot, and classical music playing through the speaker system—one I’m accustomed to visiting when meeting my dad. A high-scale place that serves sandwiches and burgers. I could definitely get a tastier burger downtown at Charley’s, but the rich like to spend wads of cash on simple burgers to remind themselves how much better off they are than others.

  “How’s university going?” he asks, setting his drink down, continuing to scroll along his phone. Aside from eyeing his glass, his vision hasn’t broken from his cellphone.

  “Yeah, it’s good,” I answer. He doesn’t lift his eyes. I decide it’s time for one of my patented “check to see how much your dad is really paying attention to you” tests. “I thought college was going to be tough, especially the first week. But my English professor is an alien from Neptune. The language barrier might be a problem, but they have tutors who specialize in Klingon.”

  He grunts. “That’s odd. Never heard of that language,” he replies, now typing something into his phone.

  I roll my eyes and chuckle. I’m over the days where I get frustrated or hurt by him not paying attention. Now it’s just disappointedly humorous. “Yeah, Professor Kirk was fluent in it. I don’t know about Doctor Skywalker. Different lineage, I guess.”

  His gaze finally lifts, eyeing me. An annoyed stare morphs over him. “Austin, that’s enough.”

  “Oh, you are paying attention.” I roll my eyes, taking a bite of another onion ring.

  “Austin, you’re eighteen and in college now. You’re not a little kid in high school anymore. Be a man and act professionally.”

  “Act professionally? Dad, I’m here on our weekly lunch for you to check up on me as if it’s an office meeting called by the supervisor. I don’t know how much more professional this father/son relationship can get.”

  “Oh, good.” He gives me an annoyed smirk. One I’ve seen a hundred times before. “You’re finally realizing what’s most important. Business.”

  “You never let me forget. Business above all. Even family.”

  “Family only serves one purpose, Austin. I thought I’d taught you that by now.”

  “Jesus, Dad. Glad to know you thought of Mom as nothing more than breeding grounds. How’s your fourth marriage going, anyway? You produce any new studs lately?”

&nbs
p; “Watch your mouth.” His words are sharp and direct.

  The silence drifts between us, and I have to take a deep breath. Okay, I may have overstepped my bounds on that last comment, but it’s far from being a false claim.

  I have five siblings. I’m an only child from my biological parents—that of my mother and this gem of a human being sitting in front of me—but my first stepmom gave him a son and a daughter. My second stepmom, his third marriage, had two daughters. He married his fourth wife three years ago, and last year she gave birth to a baby boy. Oh, she’s twenty-three, and he’s sixty-two.

  Gross! I shouldn’t have thought of that while I’m eating.

  Anyway, Jimmy Richards is my dad, and as you can tell, we have the kind of relationship that’s only seen in movies about wicked stepparents. Only he’s not a stepparent, and this isn’t a movie.

  I know he’s waiting for me to talk first. It’s a challenge. When I say totally honest, albeit rude things to him, he’ll lay the challenge down. Sometimes I accept, and other times I walk away. But given the new dynamic of our relationship, I know I have to say it.

  “Sorry,” I finally spit out. He lifts a brow, then returns to checking his phone. “What has you so busy, anyway?”

  “We’ve almost signed a new artist, but it’s … touchy. It’s not a normal contract, but I want to make sure we do everything in our power that they eventually sign with Rich Records for the long haul.” He lifts his gaze from his phone, this time his face softening a bit. “I’d really like you to stop by the studio more than what you’ve been doing.”